Glaciation


The clouds of this starless night cloak thought,
Obscure the tread of tireless pacing amongst dreams,
In the sun of meagre spacing, of buildings
Traced against the skyline, the mind reaches
A momentary peace, a fossilization of emotion,
While you in the far flung twinkling of Sirius appear.

To the shoreline racing seagulls, you motor through
This night, a tide of trembling feeling envelops
The senses, a glacial erosion creates a carving
In your country, hollows out a space where I once was,
Bringing a freedom, a lowland exposure yearned for,
And the stratosphere crouches, waiting to be filled.



To The Stained Glass Sky


To the stained glass sky
     whose panes break and fall about me.

To the bottle of whiskey
     which intended oblivion for me.

To the neglected back garden
     I shall never again attend to.
 
To the market research company
     I built for myself, but now undo.

To the wife I had once
     who up and left me quite sensibly.

To the blade before me
     jagging into my fingers gently.

To the stained glass sky
     whose panes break and fall about me.



The Old Days


While lacing your shoe, you’re
Tracing your past, the hand on
The door handle remembers the
Hand on the steering wheel that
Wandered through wonderful
Country with a lady you loved,
Her hand on your face is yours
As you shave now, remembered
Glaze of irises reflected in your
Own gaze, the haze of steely
Blue eyes pouring through.